


To Do Enough

by Ljparis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Past Leia Organa/Han Solo, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Spoilers, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: A quiet moment between Poe Dameron & Leia Organa.





	To Do Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head. I feel like The Last Jedi just verified everything I feel about Poe Dameron and Leia Organa, and I knew they needed a moment after the movie ended, so here it is.
> 
> No, seriously, this contains **MAJOR SPOILERS** for Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Please don't read this if you haven't seen the movie yet.

All that was left of the Resistance (her Resistance) could fit on the Millennium Falcon. Each and every loss ran through the General's mind; she needed to take a day or two to write all of the condolence letters.

But even with the near-destruction of everything she had worked to create, it was Leia's personal losses that pressed in on her chest, heavy as lead. 

Maybe it was the lingering effects of the vacuum of space seeping into every pore on her body, but the hope that she used to feel had disappeared, leaving her heart a void.

She wasn't lying when she said they have everything they need. She believed that. She had to believe that because if she didn't, there would be nothing left for her to fight for. She'd lost her entire planet, her family years ago, good beings from across the galaxy fighting for both the Rebellion and the Resistance, her political career, her good name, her son, her husband, her son all over again, her best friend, her _brother_. 

Leia Organa didn't have much left.

"General."

She lifted her head to the doorway where Poe Dameron stood, hesitant to enter what he probably considered was a personal space for her, the captain's cabin on the Falcon. 

She met his eyes. "Dameron."

Her name was a hoarse plea escaping his lips. "Leia."

After barely a nod of permission, Poe stepped into the cabin. He closed the door behind him and crossed to her, kneeling in front of where she sat at the edge of the bunk. One of Leia's hands gripped the edge of the bed and the other reached out for him. 

She pressed her palm against his scratchy jaw, her fingertips brushing past his dry lips. "Poe," she whispered.

He laid his head in her lap, wrapped his arms around her legs to hold her close. It was one thing to touch her hand while she was unconscious, having miraculously survived that blast on the bridge that hurled her out into the brittle cold and emptiness of space. It was another to hold her like this, her fingertips threading tenderly through his hair, her palm warm against his cheek. 

They remained like that for a long moment, their breathing coming in tune with one another's. 

Her fingers slipped down to massage the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he said. The apology, he hoped, covered a myriad of things, not only things that were his fault (like losing so many good pilots, good beings against the Dreadnought because of his refusal to take orders, putting everyone in jeopardy with disobeying Vice Admiral Holdo and sending Rose and Finn off on a suicide mission, being too _much_ at the wrong moment). But also for the things he had no control over (like the general almost dying herself, Holdo's sacrifice, whatever that was that just happened with Kylo Ren, with - Ben).

"I'm glad you didn't get yourself blown up too," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching into what might eventually become a smile (it didn't). A moment later, the teasing tone in her words was gone. "I couldn't lose you too."

Amilyn's insistence that Leia _could_ take another loss flashed in her mind, that moment between the two old friends when Leia knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never see her again. Years of fighting alongside each other, crying together, years of close friendship over in a moment. A moment that kept Leia alive and shattered Amilyn into a million particles of space dust and hyperdrive flashes.

"I'm here," Poe was saying. He repeated himself, alternating it with more apologies.

It took Leia a moment to realize he was crying. It took her another moment to realize she was too.

Poe lifted his head from her lap and looked at her. He pressed his hands into the sides of her thighs, settling back into a squat in front of her. "Leia," he said. He lifted a shaky hand up to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "Please. Tell me what I can do."

She shook her head. Barely. She turned her face into his touch, his thumb stroking her jaw, her mouth open against his palm. She pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm, lingered there. "You've done enough," she breathed out. "You've done more than enough." 

Just a few short days ago that might have been an admonishment. It might still be. But Poe chose to believe that it wasn't, that in the end he was able to help her, somehow. His strength and skills and drive were in the Resistance, but his heart was in it for her.

"I should let you get some rest," he said quietly. "Some sleep." She needed it. She had come out of unconsciousness so suddenly, and she couldn't possibly be as all right as she wanted him to believe. Slowly, he dragged his hand away from the her face and stood up.

The general caught his hand in hers, brought it up against her chest where he could feel the steady pulse of her heartbeat. Steady, he said to himself, that was good. He wasn't going to lose her. "I can't sleep in here," she said. "Not alone."

His swallow stopped midway down his throat and he coughed, trying to cover it up. His eyes widened at her as he spread his hand out against her chest. 

Poe didn't pretend to understand the complicated relationship Leia Organa and Han Solo had had with one another. He knew the general had loved Solo, saw the way she broke when he'd died. Been killed, Poe corrected himself, by their _son_. But he also knew that Solo had hurt her, that setting foot in this ship was difficult for her. He had watched her hesitate at the bottom of the ramp, saw the fresh pain cross her face, felt the heaviness of her when she'd sat out in the lounge giving orders as if on autopilot. He saw all of that now, too, here in this room that he assumed had been theirs. 

He considered carefully the next words that came out of his mouth. He hesitated but then, finally, asked her, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

The moment during which he waited to hear her answer stretched between them for far too long. Poe shouldn't have asked. He started to step away, an apology fumbling from the tip of his tongue, when he heard her speak.

"Yes," Leia said, her voice like gravel. She squeezed his hand and tugged him toward her. "I would like you to stay with me, Dameron."


End file.
